


1:34

by aprilwinks (sleepysauce)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24711058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepysauce/pseuds/aprilwinks
Summary: Arthur and Alfred loved staring at the stars ; Arthur to feel something and for Alfred to look at Arthur unabashedly.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Kudos: 17





	1:34

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on AO3! I'm very excited and it's not beta-read, and I had a mental breakdown editing it, bone apple teeth.

Alfred snuggled closer to the blanket. He woke up to a chilling coldness surrounding him. In a panic, he scrambled up and fumbled the sheets around him. His vision was blurry and he stumbled for warmth and found none. Alfred miserably wrapped his hand against his forehead, sweat was dripping down his face.

“Not again.” Alfred choked out as he struggled against the cold sheets and glanced up. The moonlight was pouring in a bucketful of soft light into his cold bedroom. His bedroom was cluttered with dirty clothes, dust and strewn around furniture. Beside his bed was a large open white window with fluttering pearl curtains.

Alfred glanced at the shimmering window. He turned his head towards the lithe gleam of the moon. He imagined what Arthur felt like when he did it.  _ Arthur _ , Alfred rolled into his sides and cradled his body. Alfred tries not to think of Arthur ,  _ it’s not good to dwell on the past at _ least that’s what his therapist says. Alfred momentarily glances at the cabinet beside his bed. His eyes squinted to admire the shiny orange pills.

However, Alfred resolve was stung after imagining the sharp and protruding nose scrunch in disapproval of his lovely -and not to forget an emergency visit to the ER. Alfred clenches his knuckles at the thought of bleached beds and buzzing beeps surrounding him. Instead, Alfred turns around to face the moon. He snaps out of the hospital and imagines something sweeter and softer. He closes his eyes and thinks of Arthur:

(Alfred laments his loss; when Arthur died so did Alfred's love for humanity.)

_ Did he feel alone? _

_ Did the moon bring comfort or shame? _

_ Did he feel as alone as he felt right now? _

Alfred sighed into his hands and stood up. The white blanket falling to the wooden floor below him. The light illuminated the messy bedroom stocked full of memories long past. It was impossible to think of Arthur without thinking of his end.

Alfred brushes his hair back, he frowned when he cowlick flickered back to the ground. It was as if it was frowning with him. Arthur could always bring it back up.

Alfred missed the gleaming rush of Arthur’s lock. His hair was like a golden field wrapping Alfred’s hands around it. He would always sneer and shake his hand off, but Alfred could always catch the tiny twitch of a smile forming.

Alfred crouched down into the floor. His hands moving clumsily towards the bottom of the bed. He brought forth a velvet box from underneath the bed.

It was a small dainty blackbox. It was very unalarming- it wasn't something people would expect to be sinister but Alfred knew better. Despite handling the box many times before Alfred could not resist the cold shivers when his fingers brushed along its edges. Arthur would brush against the box many times smoothening the creases; he held onto things graciously as if they were his friends. And this box was one of his dearest friends, inside it used to contain his wedding suit.

But now, it's creases felt sharp and rough around his calloused hands. It would have cut Arthur's fingers and then Arthur would be cold and Arthur hated the cold. He couldn't imagine Arthur holding the box and opening it with his pretty delicate hands. Hands that were perfectly sculpted like soap; hands that opened for sunlight rather than the naught of the night.

Alfred slicked back his battled hair and smoothed his clothes, he wanted to look the best for Arthur. Arthur wouldn't have liked his raggedly state. He would be fuming at his holed sweater and sweatpants. Alfred chuckled as he recalled Arthur’s flustered red face and wild hand gestures. He could even hear the shrill of his voice!

Arthur was always well-dressed; he always cleaned up nicely, but somehow his sandy mop was impervious to his clean styling. Arthur would always complain about his incessant hair clinging to his forehead or his permanent bed hair.

_ "It's like it has a mind of its own, I swear." _

Alfred grinned, he could remember Arthur's adorable bunny like nose scrunch when he pouts. Alfred closed his eyes and he could hear him sometimes. But, when he opened his eyes the house just was quiet. There were no fighting matches that resounded off the walls and afterwards soft whispers of affection clinging to the rug. Now, the room felt deathly silent. Refusing to look at the lonesome room he sighed into his hands and glanced back at the lonely box. He brought it closer to him. Alfred pretended to look over the slight glisten of red on the vertex.

Alfred slowly opened the box. He shook his head and gently placed the lid away. Suddenly, he felt a stab of panic overtake him so he turned to the table next to him. He reached for the radio and shook his head. He could do this without music. Another glance at the box.  _ "I don't love you anym-" _ Alfred winced and reached for the radio. It was too quiet here, only his strumming heart was alive. Alfred couldn't bear to listen to it anymore. It felt unfair that there was only one heart beating.

He shuddered at the memory and surrendered to the box. He turned on the nearby radio. A slightly haunting melody slowly invaded the enclosed room; Alfred sneered at the song, his nostrils prickled in familiar disgust.

"Not this song, any song but this." Alfred bemoaned and he sat down with his legs entangled and inspected the open box. He opened it and cried out softly. His hands shook as he slowly took out the gleaming knife. He clutched the knife into his palms. The song made him shiver into painful pants. Alfred suddenly turned and tried to shut it off, but stopped.

Wasn't this the last song Arthur listened to?

Alfred was sure that Arthur would be upset if Alfred would turn off the music now, he would be delighted to hear this when he  _ arrives _ . And so, Alfred grumbled out in defeat and let the music march on.

Alfred peered through the window and imagined Arthur holding the knife.

Was it at a right angle? Alfred positioned the knife towards his stomach and shuddered. Or perhaps 45 degree angle so that Arthur wouldn't see the blood escaping him? Alfred moved the knife in his unsteady hands to his wrists. He gasped out pitiably and tried not to flinch at the sounds haunting their room. Alfred only thought of Arthur and Arthur's wrists were like snow and the blood would paint him red.

Or, Alfred paused and let the knife drop to the floor, did Arthur imagine himself lost in the stars, in planets far away from here? Alfred peered at the stars and moved the knife towards the heavens. The moon must have been his last companion when he did it. He always loved watching the stars never mind how jealous Alfred got. He must have dreamt himself flying towards the skies.

Arthur would have been beautiful flying but he would be flying away from-Alfred? Alfred gripped the knife a little tighter.

Alfred couldn't remember when it started but he had always been jealous of the stars, how Arthur looked at them with such awe. Their friends would joke at their afternoon cafes that that's why he became an astrophysicist. Elizabeta joked that he could keep an eye out for something that always caught Arthur's attention. He couldn't handle others having Arthur's attention. Alfred may have pouted and grunted at the accusations then but now he understood.

He often wondered how the stars and skies had a special gravitational pull towards Arthur. Alfred couldn’t comprehend it. They're so far away, you can stretch your hands and never come close to reaching it. The universe was constantly expanding away, and everyday Arthur still loved it the same; even as it went farther away each day. It was impossible. How could you love something that would never come back? 

Alfred shone in the actual physical sciences, when he poured his hands into the earth and found geodes- he could see it’s origins from the stars above. However, the paper thin theories eluded him. Alfed could tinker with the touch and the pull of atomics and particles, but he could never know the result. He discovered many things and one of the things he hated was that the force of two objects pulling and pushing towards each other would result in the unfavourable outcome of becoming further apart. As much as he didn’t want to think of his own reality he had to come to terms with it.Alfred was scared of the untouchable. He was scared of losing Arthur, he may be physically on earth but his heart would be galaxies away from him.

Was this how Arthur looked at Alfred, his star in the night sky?

It was if any contact would only scare and skitter him away, he could gaze at him for only so long before his feet hurt from twisting and his hands in pain from stretching. He could reach further and climb higher and still not be any closer. Alfred lightly traced the knife with his fingers. It was cold. Arthur hated the cold. He loved the hot beating warmth of Alfred's body. And most of all his constant drumming beat of his heart. Arthur would always grumble and bitch when the blankets were stolen and it was up to Alfred to Alfred snuggle Arthur into his roaring chest. How could he do  _ this _ ? He could never imagine Arthur in throbbing pain from the cold knife into his soft and tender and warm body.

Alfred to this day could still remember and recite all his last words in the cramped paper lying in the dustbin.

_ Dear Alfred, _

_ I loved you, _

_ and I love you, and I loved you _

_ For I tried to hold the spark - _

_ But the brightest stars above you _

_ Couldn't make it through the dark. _

_ See I tried my best at coping, _

_ And I longed to make you see -That I spent a long time hoping _

_ We'd be how we used to be. _

_ You could flame me, _

_ you could shame me, _

_ Though I burned to see it through. _

_ But I hope that you don't blame me that _

_ I just can't be there for you. _

_ Arthur Kirkland. _

_ P.S _

_ I will miss you. _

The terrible strings shook Alfred out of his chant. Alfred hated this love song. It's words were meaningless and its rhythm was a mess and the singers couldn't even sing that well- but does any of that  _ mean  _ anything if Arthur loved this song to his cold end.

_ Alfred paused at the edge of the kitchen. He fumbled over the ring in his back pocket and non-discreetly pried the coffee off the machine, he needed liquid luck and a lot of it. Soft music embedded over to him, it was that song again from when was it? High school or Middle school? The music was something important, but was it prom night or the first date? Alfred sighed in contentment for knowing Arthur for that long. He has known Arthur for more than a decade, if that doesn't make him the luckiest man in the world then maybe this ring will. _

_ "You sure love that song, huh?" Alfred sniggered from his cup of morning coffee. He gently blew on it. Arthur startled at the rusty sound of his boyfriend's voice and glared back at him. Alfred grinned in apology and sent a kissy sound back at him. Arthur's face flushed like red roses beautifully and turned back to his duties as the resident cleaner of the house or so he says after almost burning down the kitchen. Arthur finished washing the swamp full of dishes and his shoulders rose and promptly fell. He glanced back and scoffed. "It's got a good beat and rhythm, but the lyrics," Arthur leaned closer to the counter and raised the radio's volume.  _

_ "They're haunting." Arthur looked away and stared at the cabinets and only sighed when Alfred raised his eyebrows. _

_ "Do you even know what they're saying?" Alfred tilted his head and continued, "It all sounds like gibberish." _

_ Arthur straightened up and brushed Alfred's wheat hair from his forehead. He smiled. "To an imbecile like you maybe but," Arthur pulled their heads closer together. "To me it sounds like..us." _

_ Alfred was about to voice confusion but gladly stopped when Arthur’s lips mushed and melted into his. It was Alfred's favorite way of being shut up by. He tasted the pungent taste of earl grey tea and piercing fresh rain and twinges of smoke. He drowned into the taste. He pulled their bodies closer in the small kitchen and forgot about the shiny ring in his pocket. _

Alfred wondered at the sky as his shaky left hand fell to the ground and he bit back a cry. The lone ring flickered on the table. The song lofted into this head and Alfred spiraled down into the musty ground.

Alfred imagined the song alike to the cosmic background radiation. It was a centuries old light transmitted across the galaxies for humans to detect. It was like Arthur- Alfred grinned it seems like every thought he has, Arthur would sprout out and fill his head to mush.

The cosmic radiation itself is long gone but can be detected. It was like Arthur’s presence: long gone, but their love shimmered still. He felt Arthur's being stirred and connected though the song. He could still feel him sometimes.

Alfred wanted to be where Arthur was. From this point in time, he aches for the universe to stop. For the world to be isotropic; where anywhere he looks and sees is all of Arthur. Only him no matter the direction, he could always run back to him. Always in sight and near to him and him only. He damned the world not to be homogenous; he couldn't find him anymore.

He wanted to travel to the moon and the stars and planets. He could imagine holding Arthur's lithe hands and travel to the ends of the universe. They would explore the universe together. What wild adventures they would have gone on.

_ "If you could be anything, what would you be? _

_ Arthur fumbled, he gazed up at the bright sky and smiled warmly. A faraway look in his eyes glistened. Alfred pouted at the lack of attention and hurled himself to his best friend. _

_ "I want to be the King of America!" _

_ "Get off me! And to answer your question, I would become a star I think?" Arthur gestured to the sky in an awed motion, as if he was trying to stretch and reach and catch a star. He fumbled. and promptly fell back into Alfred's embrace. _

_ Alfred's baby blue eyes shone and his cherub face grinned, "You would be the brightest star out there! And I could meet you in the rocketship!" His eyes crinkled in soft admiration and he melted into the warmth. _

Alfred was 12 when he got his first telescope. It was the night of his birthday and Arthur collected his allowance and all his change and bought it first hand from his uncle. Alfred had to restrain himself not to pounce himself on Arthur.

"Come on! Let's see the stars!" Alfred pulled Arthur alongside him and together they watched the sky. Pearl and shimmering gold sparkled back at them and Alfred cheered as he saw a shooting star from his telescope.

"Can you catch it?" Arthur asked, frozen in amazement. Alfred gazed at Arthur's stunned expression and he already knew what to do.

Alfred grinned and chased down the star, over the hills and away from the shouts. He ran over the Ohio coal sky and flew over the rocks. He stretched his arms wide and pounced at the sky. 

Did I get it? Alfred opened his hands and a wispy firefly flew out.

Alfred sighed, but flinched when he saw a gratifying light explosion. It's light sparkled out and burned as brightly as the sun; Alfred stared and smiled. He couldn't catch the star but he had an idea. Alfred ran back and nearly trampled over Arthur in excitement.

"Look!" Alfred pointed towards the aurora like lights and held Arthur's warm hand close to him. He blushed and hid his face from him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't catch your star," Alfred whispered and rubbed Arthur's small hands. "But, I can give you this one!" 

He let go of their hands and pointed at the blooming orbs.

"It's the prettiest star of them all! " Alfred shouted and twirled around Arthur.

"Woah, all of this for...me?" ask Arthur breathlessly. Arthur was still watching the orb light dance around in the night sky. He was frozen still, mouth gaped wide in amazement. 

"Yep, do you like it?" Arthur looked down at the ground, but Alfred could see an ‘Arthur smile’ when he sees one. Alfred joined their hands together and Arthur didn't look up but squeezed back a reply:

_ Thank you. _

Alfred didn't know it then but the brightest stars died the brightest. And those stars would be long gone when he tried to find them now. Rockets can't find dead space. And Alfred can’t bring back Arthur back from the heavens.

Alfred didn't know it then, but that was when he decided to become an astrophysicist. To study the stars and find a star worthy of Arthur someday. Perhaps, he could meet him on a spaceship one day. But what star could ever sparkle the way Arthur's did in the pretty sunlight when school was over and the sunlight gently kissed Arthur skin and his blonde hair was flowing in the cool breeze. He missed those emerald pretty life-full eyes. Eyes that looked back at him with warmth. Lights would always surround him like a pearly halo. The stars were a poor replacement for him.

_ "Hey Arthur?" _

_ "What is it?" _

_ "How do you tell someone you love them?" _

_ Arthur stopped crinkling his homework, he looked back to where Alfred was twiddling his thumbs in nervous excitement. His impressive eyebrows rose. He placed his pen to his chin and wondered. _

_ "You just tell them, I guess." Arthur resumed working on his English assignment. Alfred frowned and walked closer to him, his footsteps light and jittery. _

_ "Can't I just kiss them instead?" Alfred whispered, his eyes bright and his lips curled upward in a shy grin. Arthur frowned at him and shook his head. _

_ "That's too crass, instead-" Arthur's lips were softly kissed upon by Alfred. He tasted of sweet tropical coasts and summer snow. He looked back sheepishly and apologized. _

_ "I'm so sorry!" Alfred fumbled, his face flushed with an Eden glow and panted, "I just really wanted to kiss you," he shyly looked at the window, his cheeks a soft red. _

_ "Well, a bit poor on technique, but the enthusiasm is there, points for that." Arthur nodded at him and reached for Alfred's arm.  _

_ "But we might need a do-over." _

_ His wondrous green eyes glistened at him, but Alfred was eyeing at his rose petal like lips. _

_ Alfred smiled so widely it stung and swung towards Arthurs with all his might. And once again, his mouth fell into his mouth. _

Next time, Alfred wouldn't even take his eyes off the stars in Arthur's eyes. His warm breath against his and the pull of his body close next to his. The pure gravitational pull of attractive objects was intoxicating and felt right. To feel his life full and beating, to be living in the same moment.

Alfred clenched his eyes. He imagined the pouring rain on him. The day the rain that lasted forever. The rain was cold. It stuck to his hoodie and his greying jeans that Arthur would be so upset about finding. He felt cold and empty; devoid of any warmth in his body. His Arthur was torn. His face was a blur of mismatched emotions and confusing signals. His jeans were ripping apart. His body was shaking-he thought it was from the cold. It wasn't.

Arthur called him to meet on the hill. The same hill they met when they were little kids. The hill had a green pasture and a single warm oak tree standing proudly at the top. The tree had a rickety wheel swing where they played together until the sun glided down. It was those moments when Alfred saw Arthur and wished that time could freeze. Just that memory of playing together in the eternal sunshine together and ever and ever.

But that day wasn't like the other days, time was inpatient. Unyielding and cruel as it forced Arthur and Alfred apart , tearing seams like Alfred's worn jeans. He looked at the once vast expansive sky which seemed infinite to him as a child, but now it was small and unconquerable.

The sky was expressionless, no emotion storable and nothing to trace. Nothing like Arthur's expressions and emotions that were heart to heart and clear and beautiful. But not like this-not with Arthur's face damaged;  _ his fingers near the knife and his eyes twisted in pain and shaking. His pupil dilated and sprinted in a frenzy _ . Alfred shook his head and his heart was pumping with panic. He calmed his breath and held his arms in place together. A shitty hug. A poor substitute for a hug from the  _ real  _ Arthur. He poured life back to himself and closed his eyes again. He still  _ needed  _ to see Arthur.

_ "I'm sorry, I didn’t know, but I can help" _

The rest of the conversation blurred. Alfred can only see Arthur's retreating figure. His face was torn and stricken with pain. Alfred cried out, he can't look at him anymore. All of their memories are gone and he still needs to see Arthur one last time and talk to him and hold him and remember all of him.

"Don't look at me like that!" he startled. Arthur clenched his eyes shut and clenched his knuckles white. He looked sick. But, that wasn't what scared Alfred; he looked at him without love. Like he was repulsed at the sight of him. He shuddered in agony. He would rather die than see Arthur leave.

_ "I can fix you!!" _

Alfred still can't remember who said that. Who stopped talking and who continued talking and how it all happened. He wanted to scream in agony.

They still haven't finished their conversation in the hill with the trees and the cruel sky and the overcast clouds and the wet uniforms and how Arthur ran away with the sun and how Alfred couldn't find him.

Alfred can still remember the pouring rain on his face and the wind pushing him away from his home. 

From Arthur.

He saw bright lights around him, cars whirred past him in a frenzy. He might have hit one he couldn't tell anymore, all he can hear is 

Arthur, 

Arthur,

Arthur. 

The mantra he kept chanting to himself. Every time his heart beat it thudded Arthur's name, he lived for Arthur. Hoping that he's okay and fine and isn't angry with him and won't hate him and especially won't leave him.

But Alfred wasn’t the one that left that day. All Alfred could remember is him wet in the rain and returning to Arthur's wet body on the ground.

The rain still hadn't stopped.

The soft thrumming pours of the love song permeated the room. It was the song that Arthur wrote to and cooked to and cleaned the dives to when he was alive. It felt as if it were mocking him, as if the words and melodies could only be understood by Arthur and not him. It was if the music was taunting him that it spent Athur’s last moments together.

Alfred still couldn’t make sense of it; it was an ugly tangle of noise. It wasn't music if Arthur wasn't singing it. Alfredd wanted to turn it off. He wanted to shut the music off from his head. The music doesn't matter if Arthur isn't the one singing it. It simply won't be  _ music _ .

Alfred didn't want to admit that he just didn't want to remember  _ Arthur.  _ It would  _ hurt too _ much.

But it didn't matter what Alfred wanted, this was Arthur's favourite song. The song that taught him what love was; Alfred tried to imagine hearing Arthur humming or singing the song. He needed to hear his clear lovely voice again for just a second. Alfred softly sang it. His words were smushed together and his off-pitch voice gently reverberated off the looming walls. He still sang it with as much rhythm as he could muster; he tried to follow Arthur's tone. He imagined it was Arthur singing with him and back to him. A duet of different worlds. He stoped singing.

He could hear  _ him _ .

Every night at 1:34 pm, Alfred thinks about it. The blade, the blood and the body. He wonders why he did it. He might never know. And yet, he always thinks of him and sometimes he can even see him and he is not scared anymore. 

He can always see him at 1:34. 

Always.

Sometimes funny things happen in the universe; somehow, beyond all doubts, the universe let me Alfred F. Jones meet and fall in love with Arthur Kirkland. You let me meet Arthur for a person as undeserving as I am. I will love him everyday, even if I will never see him again and I will love him if I see him everyday. Every time I look at his face, I ask myself: Will I be able to love someone again? I don't think so. I don't think it would happen if it wasn't Arthur Kirkland with the two Ks and the British accent and charming green eyes. Now, dear universe, all that I ask is to let him know that I still love him and miss him everyday. 

Alfred adored the moon; he pondered it's axis (8.85 years) and orbit (27 days) every time he saw it. He stood up and parted the rotten curtains away and opened the window. Allowing the cool night breeze to enter the room. He shivered in the cold, but he didn’t notice it. Alfred strained himself looking higher and higher into the sky.

‘Arthur was probably hiding behind that cloud’ Alfred pointed to a frail wispy cloud hiding behind the moon. It was like the way he used to hide between Alfred when they were children. But Alfred digressed, Arthur wasn't a cloud no- Arthur was a star. The world could see A- 2-44-23 shine as brightly as the man Alfred loved. He smiled at the cheesy name, maybe one day in the future someone could build a spaceship and observe its unyielding beauty. 

Hopefully, it will still shine and sparkle as it does now.

He feels his bright shining light and shimmers. He knows that Arthur isn't truly as close as he seems, the true distance of a star is only measured by a farther star. And Arthur was the furthest he has ever been from Alfred, no rocket ship could ever reach him. Alfred sighs into his hands and listens to the stillness of the wind. He felt a slight something- something close and dear to me coming closer and closer. 

He exhales softly and imagines.

Whenever Alfred closes his eyes, he feels him, his presence, his warm breath on his lips and an earnest smile hiding behind him. Alfred smiles. We are breathing together. That's all he could ever ask for.

**Time** , Alfred begged, please stop. I want to feel him. His body, his face, his voice and color and being. Don't divide us again. He slowly embraced his delicate body tightly. He felt the frigid feel of his faint skin. Alfred doesn't want Arthur to be cold again and hugs him even closer.

**Wind** , Alfred prayed, stop breathing. I want to focus on Arthur's curly hair and his soft voice and his slender hands and his heartbeat and warm breath. He listened to Arthur’s soft inhale and exhale; the expiration of his gentle lungs and the humming of his blood.

_ Just love me when you come back _

Arthur smiles at him in the same exact he did when they were 10 and he did something stupid and yet Arthur looks at him with warmth that says I-will-stay-with-you-and-put-up-with-you. His hair is forever sandy blond like the beaches and the seas he loved and his skin still pale as the Dover Cliffs where he was born and his eyes still luminescent like emeralds. None of these things will ever change. He will forever be Arthur. He won't ever change. He will forever be the boy with the golden hair and green eyes. He will forever be the boy that Alfred loved and will continue to love. Alfred tried to stop himself from crying. He took a deep breath and glanced at the clock.

The clock read 1:34.

He smiled at Arthur and carefully went back to his bed. Arthur's face beaming back at him in his dreams. Outside, far away hidden amongst the clouds, a shiny star twinkled in fondness.

_ "You do know that there is no king of America right?" _

_ "Not yet there isn't!" _

  
  


  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> "I loved you,  
> and I love you, and I loved you  
> For I tried to hold the spark -  
> But the brightest stars above you  
> Couldn't make it through the dark.  
> See I tried my best at coping,  
> And I longed to make you see -That I spent a long time hoping  
> We'd be how we used to be.  
> You could flame me,  
> you could shame me,  
> Though I burned to see it through.  
> But I hope that you don't blame me that  
> I just can't be there for you."  
> The poem is written by :poem by your sprog on reddit. Beautiful poem that inspired me to write this work, check out his work.


End file.
